"Mom, I'm scared!" In a small, drafty wooden cabin, a young boy clung to his mother, his face full of fear as he trembled. He could hear the sounds of battle outside and knew that those damned orcs were attacking their village again.
Winter had come, and the greedy, ugly, and barbaric orcs were raiding the human borders like locusts, bypassing fortresses to attack villages scattered around human cities. His village had become one of their targets.
However, thanks to the countless years of conflict between humans and orcs, humans had accumulated a wealth of experience in dealing with these invaders. Even a small village like theirs was protected by a wall four or five meters high.
"Don't be afraid, Ann. Your father will protect us. He's the best hunter in the village; even orcs fear his arrows." The young woman held her son tightly, her voice soft as she comforted him. Despite the fear gripping her heart, she had to remain calm in front of her child. She couldn't let her fear spread to him.
"God, please save us! Punish these vile orcs with your wrath!" The woman silently prayed to the war god worshipped in their village. Even though her rational mind told her that such prayers were likely futile—what god would respond to the plea of a lowly ant like her?—she still clung to that hope.
But as she expected, no divine intervention came. The sounds from her childhood nightmares echoed in her ears once again—the heavy thud of something collapsing. The orcs had breached their village defenses, unable to withstand the assault of the hungry invaders. Along with the sound of the wooden barricade falling, the terrifying roars that had haunted her for so long filled the air.
The woman shuddered at these sounds. The village defenses had been breached—what fate awaited the hunters and young men who guarded it? It was not hard to imagine.
Sadness overwhelmed her, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. The orcs were closing in, and her child was still not safely hidden.
"Ann, don't make a sound. Hide here." The woman gripped the hunting knife in her hand, picked up her young son, and moved to a corner of the cabin. She lifted a well-hidden trapdoor leading to the basement and pushed him inside.
"Mom, come hide with me," the seven-year-old boy pleaded, his voice tinged with fear as the sounds of orcish roars and the cries of the villagers echoed in his ears. He clung tightly to his mother's robes, trying to pull her in with him.
"Ann, you'll be safe here alone. I'll find another place to hide."
"Don't lie to me," Ann's voice broke as he started to cry. He knew what his mother was planning to do.
Orcs, who were mortal enemies of humans, were intelligent beings, not mindless beasts. They knew how to hunt, and an empty, abandoned house would certainly arouse their suspicion. They would use their sharp senses and intelligence to search for humans. Simply hiding wouldn't work—many people had been caught and eaten by orcs while playing hide-and-seek.
If Ann and his mother simply hid in the cellar, there was a ninety percent chance they would be found and captured. However, if one of them ran out to distract the orcs, the other would have a much higher chance of survival.
"Be good and stay hidden," the woman said as she looked at her son, then placed the sharp hunting knife in his hand. "Take this knife. Remember, your father gave it to me. If I don't make it, live on and avenge us."
With that, the woman used strength her child couldn't resist to push him into the basement and slammed the trapdoor shut. In this brutal world, even seemingly weak women knew how to wield tools and weapons to defend themselves.
After securing her child, the woman grabbed a farming tool from the corner and let the fear she had been suppressing show on her face. With her child hidden, she no longer needed to pretend to be strong.
She quickly gathered her child's clothes from the room. Just as she finished, there was a loud bang—the cabin door was kicked open. In the doorway stood a towering orc, its greenish-black skin illuminated by the flickering firelight.
The stench of sweat and blood filled the air as the orc entered, making the woman gag, but she didn't move. She simply gripped the farming tool and charged at the orc, her hatred burning in her eyes.
"Human, female. Heh heh!" The filthy orc, who hadn't bathed in days, laughed as the young woman attacked. With a single swipe, he knocked the tool out of her hands and grabbed her like she was nothing more than a chicken, dragging her deeper into the cabin.
As they moved further into the room, the woman's pale face turned a sickly blue. Despite this, she struggled desperately, seeing the terrifying look in the orc's eyes. The sound of fabric tearing filled the air.
"Dirty orc, don't touch me!" she screamed, her voice filled with both fear and rage.
"Stop struggling, weakling. You'll only make this harder for yourself." The orc's rough voice rumbled through the room. The repeated sound of fabric being torn to shreds deeply disturbed the young boy hiding in the cellar.
Bang! The trapdoor rattled as the boy cried out in fury, "Don't touch my mother!"
"Haha, so there's a little one hiding here." The orc, pausing in his attack, looked over to where the trapdoor was bouncing.
"Ann, you foolish child," the woman whispered, tears of despair streaming down her face as she saw her son trying to break free and rescue her.
"Let's see what kind of little brat you are," the orc said, grinning as he walked over to the trapdoor. He yanked it open, only to be met by a brown-haired boy swinging a hunting knife at him.
"Brave, but foolish," the orc said, easily snapping the boy's wrist and tossing the knife aside. He lifted the boy up, a bit of drool escaping his mouth as he eyed his new prey. "I wonder how you'll taste?"
"Let go of my child!" The boy's mother, now a tattered mess, swung a sickle at the orc's shoulder. Her protective instincts had taken over, but the orc's tough muscles stopped the blade, leaving only a shallow cut.
"Pathetic human, don't worry—you're next," the orc said, pulling the sickle out and tossing it aside before turning back to the boy. His stomach growled in anticipation.
Swish! But just as he opened his mouth to bite, a three-meter-long lance shot through the doorway, piercing the orc's chest and sending him crashing into the wall. The force of the blow even caused part of the cabin to collapse.
Ann, his arm broken, sat on the ground in a daze as he watched what unfolded outside. He saw a group of knights on horseback slaughtering the orcs who had been raiding and burning their village. In the hands of these powerful knights, the orcs fell like rabbits he had seen his father kill.
As he watched, a knight with no weapon in hand—only a large sword strapped to his back—approached. Unlike the others, this knight didn't carry a lance.
"Not bad, kid," the bronze-armored knight said as he entered the cabin and saw the boy sitting silently, his eyes wide with shock. The knight couldn't help but praise him—few children could remain so calm with a broken arm.
"Are you a hero?" Ann asked, staring up at the knight in awe, his mind filled with the stories he had heard of brave warriors.
"A hero?" The knight chuckled, lifting a hand to his faceplate as he laughed. "I'm no hero from your stories. I'm just a nameless knight chasing profit, reeking of copper."
"But…"
"Kid, let me tell you straight—I'm a slaver. You and your mother are now my property, so be quiet and behave."
The knight's cold smile cut off the boy's words. As he turned to leave, he noticed the boy's bleeding arm and tossed him a potion.
"Drink this. It'll heal your injury."
Seeing the growing admiration in the boy's eyes, the knight added, "Don't think I'm helping you out of kindness. I just want to make a bigger profit. Only healthy slaves fetch a good price."
"Slave trader? He's just like the heroes in the stories," Ann muttered, still in awe. Only a hero from those tales would throw away their main weapon during a battle to save someone.
"And that's just a basic healing potion, worth thirty gold coins. He could buy over a hundred kids like me with that money. Does he think I'm clueless?"
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